Free Dark and Twisted by Heidi Acosta Page B

He straightens up and hobbles back a few steps.
    “I was attacked,” I whimper. Didn’t Mr. Wissian see my attacker? Why is he looking at me so strangely?
    “Eden, do you suffer from low blood sugar?” he asks.
    I look at him and blink in confusion. Sighing, he produces a lint covered mint from somewhere in his pocket.
    “I think you fainted. Either that or you like taking naps on trails in the woods.”
    He sounds annoyed, but why would he be if I was the one being attacked?
    “I wasn’t taking a nap, and I didn’t faint. I don’t faint.” Why doesn’t he believe me? I look around the woods again. “Did you see him?” I ask.
    “Who?” He furrows his brow, filling his face with more wrinkles than usual.
    “The person who attacked me.”
    Mr. Wissian shakes his head and sighs. “I didn’t see anything. I heard you yelling when I was out for my afternoon stroll, but I assure you, you were alone.” He bends over and lifts my bag up, brushing the dried leaves and dirt from the patchwork fabric.
    “My phone.” I get to my feet and grab my bag back from him, digging around in the front pocket. “It was in here.” I push aside rumpled up homework sheets and straw wrappers. “It must have fallen out when I was …” I glance up at Mr. Wissian, who is watching me with concern. For a moment, I toy with the idea that it could have been him. He has on an oversized corduroy overcoat and a red sweater vest. No, he couldn’t have been my attacker. He’s too short and badly dressed and his eyes don’t glow. I bite down hard on my lip, holding back a whimper.
    “You don’t believe I was attacked? You think I fainted?” I question him.
    His concerned look morphs into pity. “Yes, I believe so.”
    He offers me the mint again, and I take it and stuff it in my mouth. I am feeling lightheaded.
    “Why?” I ask, swallowing some of the lint.
    “There is no sign of a struggle.”
    “But my neck, he burned me.” I pull the collar of my shirt down, but I know by the look on his face that nothing is there.
    “Eden, perhaps you imagined it, with your …” He lets his next word die off.
    “With my history,” I finish for him.
    He nods his head.
    “I’m not crazy. I didn’t imagine it or hallucinate.” I jut out my chin in defiance. I’m not going to stand around debating my sanity when I know what happened. “Can I use your phone? I need to call the police. The guy who attacked me is still out there.” I hold out my hand, waiting. I’m not going to let some middle-aged, balding man make me feel like I was in the wrong. I was attacked.
    “I’m sorry, Miss Day. I don’t have a phone. I don’t believe in them.”
    Who the hell doesn’t believe in cell phones?
    “I need to get home.” I turn away angrily, swinging my bag over my shoulder.
    “I will see you home,” he says.
    I don’t protest because, despite my annoyance with him, I don’t want to be alone with the phantoms haunting my mind.
    ###
    Red and blue lights dance over the living room wall. The attack weighs heavy on my mind. All I want to do is lay down and sleep, but I have to repeat my story again to another officer who asks the same questions as the others. An older officer sits across from me in the recliner, looking overstuffed and overtired himself. He pushes his glasses to the top of his head and sighs through his nose for the thousandth time. His partner, a wiry kid who graduated high school last year, stands next to the TV. One hand sits on his belt, the other on his gun, ready at any moment to take a perpetrator out.
    “Eden, can you explain to me what the attacker looked like?” He sits up, putting his elbows on his knees.
    “I told you already, I couldn’t see him.” I only saw his eyes. Eyes that glowed is what I don’t say.
    “Pete’s searched the area and didn’t find anyone or any sign of an attack.”
    I roll my eyes at Officer Pete, who is only on the force because his father is captain.
    “If my niece says